


I am Jack, both recognized and seen

by skepticallysighing



Series: 30 Días de Recuperación [4]
Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tyler Durden is a Real Person (Fight Club), Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gyms, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, actually very sweet story, but maybe not because like it doesnt matter you can read it both ways, good tyler, meet cute, supportive tyler durden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticallysighing/pseuds/skepticallysighing
Summary: “Hey, fuck off,” Jack said, and he hated how soft his voice sounded compared to that other man’s.But it made that man smile, and Jack’s heart skipped when he saw the man’s chipped front tooth.Hot, because there was something so tough about a broken tooth, and Jack couldn’t stand the way he wanted to be this man.ORFight Club, but The Narrator is a guy who's transitioned, but gets insecure from seeing big, strong, masculine Tyler Durden. However, when he meets Tyler, things go better than he could've ever imagined.
Relationships: Tyler Durden & Narrator
Series: 30 Días de Recuperación [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090907
Kudos: 12





	I am Jack, both recognized and seen

**Author's Note:**

> i just think that tyler is the embodiment of "i want to be a man like that", and that trans narrator makes sense. Not a lot of build up or angst in this one, we're going directly to the recovery.

_I am seen._

Because, yes, he passes now, and it feels weird. 

He knew he wasn’t handsome, at least, not in the right way. Only in a dry sort of way, because to stop looking feminine in the way that made him feel _wrong_ , he instead looked totally sexless.

He was sick, probably, because he truly thought the only way to get that boxy frame men seemed to pull off so effortlessly was to waste away. Waste away he did, and one might say those heavy, purple eyebags truly did look masculine.

But Jack knew he passed. He had known when, one night, he had been walking home from his support group with hands stuffed deep in his pockets. He’d made eye contact with a woman walking his way, and she had immediately crossed the street, putting her hands in her own pockets. He recognized it, because it’s what he used to do if he felt scared when he was walking alone down the night street. He looked so much like a real guy that he had scared that woman into crossing to a new road to avoid crossing paths with him.

 _And I don’t really like that_ , he thought to himself, _but I do like that she saw me the way I want to be seen, so maybe that’s okay._

But she didn’t really see him the way he wanted to be seen.

“And how do you want to be seen?”

Now, there was a man that he crossed ways with on the way home. That man was shorter than Jack, but he seemed taller just by the way he held himself. He walked with wide steps, and when the man spoke into his phone, his voice came from his chest. 

And so Jack would go home to his bathroom mirror and practice his deep voice. He’d press his back to the wall, like the wikihow article told him to, and take deep breaths to keep his voice low. He’d practice walking like that man, and gesturing like that man, and carrying himself like that man.

 _Gender envy_ , he thought bitterly when he heard the man laugh from deep in his broad chest.

The first time he went to the gym, imitating that man to a T (the sentence made him laugh in a way it was hard to explain to someone else), Jack ran on the treadmill. It hurt his tired bones something terrible, and he barely got up past the number three. He didn’t know what the three meant, other than to mark his misery.

The man seemed to notice him, because he came over to the treadmill. He spotted him right away, in his faded-black t-shirt with his spiky hair. The man reached over the dash and pressed a button that shut down the treadmill, not even looking. He just knew which button. Then he was resting a lazy (strong) arm over the dash and looking up at Jack with the most intense eyes in the world.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Hey, fuck off,” Jack said, and he hated how soft his voice sounded compared to that other man’s.

But it made that man smile, and Jack’s heart skipped when he saw the man’s chipped front tooth. 

_Hot_ , because there was something so tough about a broken tooth, and Jack couldn’t stand the way he wanted to be this man.

“Fuck me? Fuck you,” the man said, but he sounded pleased. “I’m saying this -- you do cardio to burn fat, and you look pretty burnt out, my friend.”

Jack licked across his bottom lip, looking up from the chipped tooth and back into his eyes. “Is that right?”

“You know it’s right, don’t ask a dumb question,” the man said, resting his chin over his (lean) forearm. “I’m Tyler.”

“Jack.”

“Jack, charmed -- listen, I know what you want. You want to be big. You want women to want you, and be afraid of you, and be afraid of how much they want you. You want men to look at you and obsess over how much stronger you are. How much more of a man you are than them. Tell me that I’m right.”

_I am Jack, I am both recognized and seen._

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly.

“Great,” Tyler grinned widely. “So, listen, here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re going home for now. Tomorrow, you come back in the morning. Early, you probably don’t sleep past five anyways. You come in, and I’ll show you what you gotta do.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good. And you’re gonna start eating better, alright? Protein. You’re not going to build muscle if you don’t have any protein to rebuild after working out, so you go find yourself breakfast. Get a mac-muffin, I don’t give a fuck, just get protein in you, or you’re just gonna get skinnier. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And, don’t wear a binder to the gym, okay?”

Jack’s breath caught, and his eyes darted around to see if anyone else had _seen right through him_ the way Tyler did.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Tyler snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s face, bringing his eyes back to center. “Look at me, Jack.”

Though everything made him want to jump off the treadmill, run home, and never think of this again, he looked back at Tyler and grimaced a fake smile.

“When you wear a binder like the one you’re wearing, you’re gonna bust a rib or a lung. Get yourself a sports bra.”

“They’re too shape-y,” Jack protested quietly, and he realized now that he had never spoken out loud to anyone about it. No one asked, because asking meant getting involved in his personal life.

Tyler leaned in.

“Not if you get the right ones,” he murmured smartly, hooking a finger into his own shirt collar and pulling it back.

Under his shirt-

“Target is basically giving these away. Don’t even have to dry them separately from everything else.”

Jack blinked a few times before smiling a little, the deep sense of loneliness starting to leave him. “Wow. Thanks, Tyler.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler grinned, letting go of his shirt and leaning back. “We gotta look out for each other.”

“Did I, uh-” Jack hesitated. “Did I do something that made you know?”

“No,” he said, slapping the top of the dash and walking away, as carefree as he ever was, and still everything Jack wanted to be. “See you tomorrow morning, Jack.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, unable to help the cozy feeling in his heart and the smile on his face. “See you, Tyler.”


End file.
